Enchanted. Barbara Cartland
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with Edward Dalkirk.
She was so very much in love with him that no other man existed for her. Any who had wished to court her for her beauty had found it impossible to hold her attention or to make her even aware of their existence and any ideas they had of wooing her soon vanished.
The Duke had nothing against Edward except that he was poor.
He was the one and only son of the Viscount Dalkirk who had a crumbling Castle on an impoverished estate in Scotland and, when he left his Regiment in which he had served with distinction, he decided to try to make a little money by breeding horses.
This ambition was facilitated by the fact that his uncle had left him a house and seven hundred acres on the borders of the Duke of Northallerton’s land, which was how he had met Caroline.
From that moment, as he loved her as deeply as she loved him, he had worked feverishly to make enough money so that he could ask her to be his wife.
Unfortunately breeding the right type of horses from the quality mares he could afford to buy took time and he had not anticipated that he would be able to approach the Duke for at least another year.
“I suppose that you could run away together,” Elfa suggested, “and then hide somewhere where Papa would not find you.”
“In which – case Edward would lose the – money he has – invested in his – horses and we could not afford to find another house to live in. But I cannot marry the – Duke! I must marry – Edward!” Caroline wailed. “I love him! I love – him and I would – die if I had to marry any other man!”
Elfa rose to her feet and walked to the window.
She was very fond of her sister and it hurt her to see her so unhappy.
But while she turned over and over in her mind every argument by which Caroline could try to persuade her father she must marry Edward Dalkirk, Elfa was quite certain that the Duke would not listen to her.
She had always known that he was ambitious for Caroline.
He had been so proud when she was acclaimed a beauty and, looking back, Elfa could remember the expression of personal triumph on his face when Caroline had looked so lovely at her first ball.
It had been two years ago now and she herself was a schoolgirl at the time but she had thought then with a little twist of her lips that, when it was her turn to have a ball, her father would not be proud of her in the same way.
She could understand that the Duke, who had always wanted the child he loved best to shine, would glory in the fact that Caroline could wear a coronet of strawberry leaves and her Social position after the Royal Family would be undoubtedly the most important in England.
Elfa knew that there had always been a rivalry in rank and influence between the two Ducal houses whose lands marched side by side.
The old Duke of Lynchester had been a somewhat dissolute character and so her father had been much more respected and admired in the County which consequently became, to all intents and purposes his Empire.
But the new Duke, who had recently inherited, was different.
He was a friend of the Prince of Wales and, as far as Elfa could gather, the leader of the Social Set in London, which was acclaimed and envied by those who were not shocked by it. And he undoubtedly had an influence that had something Imperial about it.
As she thought of the Duke, this was not surprising.
In the hunting field he stood out not only as a superlative rider to hounds but also as a personality who it was impossible to ignore.
She had never spoken to him, but she was certain that she would find him overbearing and even intimidating and she knew that this would leave Caroline crushed and helpless.
Because Caroline had always been so amenable, it was Elfa, even though she was two years younger, who had been the leader, the instigator of all their pranks and who, if they were punished, protected Caroline by taking all the blame herself.
In a way this was only fair because Caroline had little imagination and it was Elfa who, as her father often pointed out, had too much.
“What can I – do? What – can I do?” Caroline murmured now and she went on crying into a handkerchief that was already soaked with her tears. “I cannot marry the Duke!”
Even when she was crying she still looked lovely, although her nose was now slightly pink and her blue eyes were swimming with tears.
“There must be something,” Elfa muttered almost beneath her breath.
Then she gave a sudden cry.
“I have an idea!”
Caroline did not reply. She just seemed to sink a little lower into her chair and her hands went up once again to her eyes.
Elfa was standing very still.
“It is coming to me,” she said, “I can see it like a picture unfolding in front of my eyes. I can do it! I know I can do it.”
“Do – what?” Caroline asked dully.
“Save you!” Elfa answered.
From marrying the Duke?”
“Yes, from marrying the Duke,” Elfa repeated.
“How? How?” Caroline asked. “I know Papa will not – listen to me and Edward has – no money at the – moment. He told me when I saw him – yesterday that he had to borrow from the Bank to buy those last mares.”
“If Edward borrowed a million pounds,” Elfa remarked, “it would still not save you from being a Duchess.”
“I know – I know, but I don’t – want to be a Duchess! I just want to marry Edward and live in that – dear little house – alone with him.”
Caroline’s voice was almost incoherent and now the tears were running down her cheeks and spilling onto the front of her gown.
“Listen,” Elfa urged. “Listen to me, Caroline.”
She went down on her knees in front of her sister and took her hands in hers.
“I have thought of how I can save you,” she said, “but you have to do, dearest, exactly what I tell you – you promise?”
“I will promise – anything if it means I can marry Edward.”
“Very well,” Elfa nodded. “Now listen to me – ”
*
The Duke of Lynchester watched the Duke of Northallerton’s carriage drive away from his front door. Then he walked across the hall and into the study where he habitually sat.
It was a comfortable well-designed room and, although there were a few books the walls were covered with a magnificent collection of pictures of horses, which he had transferred from various other rooms in the house.
The artists were mainly Stubbs, Sartorius and Herring and had been collected by one of his ancestors. By re-hanging them together the Duke knew he had improved one room in the house out of all recognition and he was determined gradually to bring the others to the same state of perfection.
He was, although he did not admit it to himself, a perfectionist and he liked everything around him to please both his eye and his mind.
It had always annoyed him that Chester House had been left in what he thought was a ‘state of disarrangement’ by his father and doubtless his grandfather before him.
It was an exceedingly impressive building, having been completed in about 1750 and at the time was a model both of Georgian architecture and of Georgian taste, which had been acclaimed by everybody.
The second Duke had been concerned only with women and horses and the third had an obsession for gambling, which had cost the estate a great deal of money and the sad loss of a number of fine pictures.
The